


Superhuman

by MountainSound



Category: Darksiders (Video Games), Disturbed (Band)
Genre: Father Figures, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainSound/pseuds/MountainSound
Summary: Matt, a human with a life like ours, gets sucked into the world of Darksiders, their favorite video game saga. They fall (literally) into the Forge Lands, and end up face to face with Death and his fellow Horsemen. Death looks into their soul and learns that they are a human prophesied to save their world. He also sees a man of significance to this human, though they've never met him, but desperately wish to.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I finally got inspiration for a new story based in my favorite game series. I'm also going to post this story and more Darksiders content on my Tumblr sideblog, nephilimsound64. Go check it out!

I had just started my sophomore year of college. I went to bed one night listening to some of my favorite songs, letting my imagination run wild as usual, thinking of myself learning from Death himself from one of my favorite games: Darksiders 2. I also imagined meeting a man I’ve looked up to for almost two years as a father figure: the bassist of my favorite band, Disturbed. Yes, he knows. I wrote him a letter and actually got a response back that made me cry tears of joy. Anyways. I woke up the next morning, just starting to do my usual morning routine of getting ready to leave for school at the buttcrack of dawn when a blue flash fills my vision and I feel the floor beneath me vanish. My heart drops into my gut as I try to right myself in a mysterious sky. My green flannel flaps as the air passes my body. It feels like an eternity before large, cold arms catch me midair. My gaze meets the blazing amber eyes of Death, the eldest Horseman of the Four, his mask of bone hiding the rest of his features. I try to slide out from his grasp, but Death hangs onto me a little tighter before letting me go, my feet gently hit the grassy ground. I sense other presences around me as I finally get to look around. It’s the rest of the Four. War, Fury, and Strife. All of them are staring at me with concern, Death the most concerned of all.

Confused, I ask, “Where am I? I’m unfamiliar with this place, but not unfamiliar with you Four.”  
Death’s eyes narrow a little. “How do you know our faces? We do not know yours.”  
“I know it sounds strange… but where I come from, you’re in a video game series that I happen to enjoy quite a bit. My favorite game from the series was ‘Darksiders 2,’ where Death is the main character.”  
All Four of them display various degrees of interest and confusion. Strife seemed the most excited of his fellow Nephilim.  
I begin to tell the journey Death took through his game while watching Death’s reactions to the events. I end with him falling into the Well of Souls to redeem War and bring back humanity. War looks at his oldest brother.  
“Now… if I remember right… this must be the Forge Lands!” I state proudly, smiling up at Death. He moves aside to let me look at the Tree of Life.  
“You are right, little one.” Death’s deep voice rumbles.  
“What is that, hanging on your shoulder?” Fury asks me. I forgot I had my little buddy, Morbus, with me.  
I introduce him. “This is Morbus. He’s a doll I made of my favorite band’s mascot, called The Guy, but was named Morbus by fans. I sewed him myself. I know he’s an inanimate object, but he’s been a companion for a couple years now.”  
Death seemed the most fascinated.

I continued to tell simple things about myself and my home to the Four as I rode with Death on Despair, his ghostly steed. I watch the landscape blur past as we make our way to the Forge. We pass through the vast field where Death faced the Guardian. I sit up a little taller in the saddle, gazing at the trees and stone in the distance. We pass through a stone arch and eventually make it to Tri-Stone. ‘It’s as beautiful as it is on the screen!’ I think. I watch the trails left behind as the Four’s horses dissipate. I stride beside the Four into the Forge. I immediately recognize the three Makers waiting inside; Valus laboring over his anvil, Alya standing by the fire, and Karn ready to greet Death and his siblings.  
“Death! You brought your family!” Karn says excitedly. “And who might this be?” He asks in my direction, crouching a little. Strife, War, and Fury already seem fond of me despite learning only a little about me through a short journey. Strife places an armored hand on my shoulder.  
“This kid is from an alternate Earth where we’re in one of their ‘video games.’” Strife says humorously. I can hear the smirk in his voice. Karn’s eyes widen in astonishment despite not knowing what a video game is. I introduce him to Morbus as well; he seems proud of my work even though it seems small, like mankind compared to the Makers and Nephilim. Karn nudges me towards the Forge, willing my creativity forth. I swear my hands are buzzing to build something. The Four are ahead, Death talking to Alya, the occasional glance or gesture thrown in my direction. I take tentative steps up to everyone. Valus and I exchange a silent greeting. I feel like an insect, especially standing beneath the Makers, who are twice as tall as the Horsemen. Death approaches me.  
“Little one, take my hand.” He holds his armored palm open to me. “There’s more I can and need to learn from you.”  
“So you wanna look into my soul, huh? Go right ahead.” I place my hand in his, already knowing some of what Death will see. He’ll see past grief and trauma, and where my heart is. He’ll see myself as I truly am. Question is: will he see more in me than I’ve seen in myself?  
I feel his mind shuffle through my memories like they’re in a hall of filing cabinets. That’s what I imagine, at least. Before I know it, I feel Death’s presence vanish and his burning gaze returns, more intense than before. I go to look back up at him, but he’s run off.  
“Did Death see something in me that I should or shouldn’t know about?” I ask Strife.  
“Don’t worry about it, kid. For now, we should get you some armor.” Strife ruffles my short, light brown hair. I already have an idea of what I want it to look like; hopefully it turns out as good as I imagine.

Meanwhile, Death sits on an isolated ledge somewhere behind the Forge, gazing towards the bridge leading to the Foundry. Many questions dominate his train of thought.  
‘How can humans be so cruel to their own children?’ ‘Why does a stranger seem so familiar?’ ‘What value do they place in this one man they’ve never met?’

‘Why and how does this human, of all creation, have the strength I’ve seen in them to help us and save their world?’  
‘How have they not discovered it yet?’

Some of these questions can be asked to the new human companion, but some must be withheld for them to discover the answer in their own time. Death hops down from his perch, Dust squawking from the sudden movement. He hears distant hammering from the Forge. The little one must be at work, already beginning their journey into figuring out their new place in a new world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of hard work in the Forge, Matt falls asleep and dreams of a wish granted.

After countless hours of heating, hammering, and heating again, I quench a piece of forearm armor in a bucket of oil, letting it cool some more before securing it to an undersuit Strife helped me piece together. It’s dark, much like his, but is reinforced in places with leather. The plates of armor forged so far simply snap into place into metal clips sewn into the undersuit. I begin working on the chestplate when Death walks back in. Looking past him outside the heavy, wooden doors, the sky is dark. His footsteps echo slightly over the work I’m doing. Death looks over my shoulder silently.  
“Like what you see so far, Death?” I ask him, keeping my attention on my task.  
“It’s impressive, little one. When you’re done, there’s a question I’d like to ask you.” He looks towards the stand I have my finished pieces resting on. He tentatively places a hand on my shoulder before walking away. During this, fatigue hits me like a truck and I realize how long I’ve been working. I step away from the Forge and find a place to sit. Death reappears seemingly out of nowhere and is now sitting next to me.  
“What’s the question you have, Death?” I look up at him.  
“While I searched your mind, I saw someone of significance, despite having no blood relation to you. You view him as your father, yet he only knows you from a letter you wrote to him. Who is he?”  
With a small sigh, I begin explaining. “His name is John Moyer. He is the bassist of my favorite band called Disturbed. I started looking up to him when I followed him after going to a Disturbed concert. Seeing how much he loved being a dad and how much he loved his kids touched me deeply; it made me wish my dad was more like him, because mine abandoned me when I was only 5 years old, also traumatizing me some time before by completely losing his temper. He lied about it as well later on when he tried to reestablish a non-existent relationship when his health took a turn for the worst. I wished and still wish that John was my dad. If I return to my world and he’s still alive, I want to meet him and protect him and his family with my life.”  
Death’s eyes soften. I notice the other Horsemen overheard my story, as they’re standing nearby, watching; even the Makers stopped their work and are looking in my direction. Everyone seems speechless. Chuckling to myself, I tell them that there’s more where that came from in my past; they will eventually learn of all of it as time goes on and my stay lengthens.

While getting ready for bed, I realize that I don’t have my medications. Hopefully I’ll be worn out enough that I won’t need them, but I’m worried about the withdrawals that will come tomorrow from not taking my anxiety and depression meds. I voice my concerns right away to Death, who I feel could help me the best. I’m glad I fell into this place on a rare day I wore my glasses, as if I didn’t have them and had contact lenses, I wouldn’t have anything to help me see, as I am severely nearsighted. If I broke or lost my glasses, I would be screwed if something tried to attack me.  
Alya overhears and pipes in. “I bet Muria would be able to help with your withdrawals and sleeplessness. I don’t know about your vision, though.”  
I get an idea. “What if I integrate my lenses into a helmet or mask? That way I can still see without worrying about my glasses falling off or getting broken!”  
I can tell Strife is the most impressed with my sudden inspiration and agrees.  
“Speaking of my glasses… Who wants to try them on and see how blind I am?” I ask jokingly.  
“I think you should get some sleep, little one.” Death answers. “We can see how blind you are tomorrow. Besides, I want to teach you some things and want you to have plenty of energy to learn.”  
“Thanks, Death.” With help from the Makers, I gather enough fabrics and materials to create some kind of bed, though it looks more like a nest. It’s better than sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Strife gives me his scarf as something to keep me warm after taking off his helmet. It’s huge on me. I set my glasses next to my “bed,” now seeing blurry blobs of Nephilim and Makers, their features dulled.  
“Goodnight, guys.” I bundle myself up as best I can and close my eyes, warmth washing over me, eventually lulling me to sleep.

In my dream, I’m home. But I’m not at the mountainous place I live; I’m in Texas, where the humid heat makes summers feel like an outdoor sauna instead of the dry oven I’m used to. I’m sitting on the front porch of John’s house, relaxing with the man himself, his sons doing their own thing in the house, probably playing something in the studio. Looking back through the front window for a moment, I see my reflection. My face looks slightly different. I look like a Moyer. I smile slightly. My short, floofy hair and green eyes are the same, just my nose is a little longer, my face shape only a little different from what it is in reality. My eyes’ shape is a little more slanted downward and softer. My heart soars. John’s my dad. The weight of past trauma on my mind is gone, but the wisdom is still there. My soul is the same, with a longing wish fulfilled. Turning back to my right, my dad’s kind eyes are on me. I hug him, tighter than I’ve hugged anyone. A few tears roll down my cheeks.  
“What’s this for?” He asks me, chuckling softly.  
“I love you, dad.” My voice breaks a little.  
His arms wrap securely around me.  
“I love you too, kiddo.”  
For once in my life, I feel whole again.

I wake up with fresh tears flowing down my face, my makeshift pillow slightly soaked. I clutch at a necklace that wasn’t there before. It has what feels like a guitar pick on it.  
‘It can’t be.’ I think as I pull it up close to my face.  
The pick is one of John’s, his flaming skull logo and initials printed on it.  
More tears fall from my face.


End file.
